


Forty Years Gone (Blue Ribbon Remix)

by pearl_o



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has learned a little self-control in the past forty years, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forty Years Gone (Blue Ribbon Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forty Years Gone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313139) by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



The first time Charles had sucked Erik Lehnsherr’s cock had been on a deserted country road, parked on the shoulder by a glade of shady trees, two hours out from the CIA base on their first day of their quest to find more mutants. It wasn’t planned; Charles had every intention on waiting, controlling whatever urges he might have until Erik seemed ready to face his own desire—but some things were more easily said than done.

It was some comfort that Charles wasn’t the only one struggling with a lack of control. Erik didn’t last five minutes from the time Charles finally, finally got his mouth around that glorious cock. Not even a warning, just a surprised-sounding grunt as he spurted into Charles’s mouth. His face was bright red when Charles raised his head, still coughing, and the mortification was coming off him in distinct waves.

Charles stifled the laugh that wanted to rise up, and instead, merely pulled Erik in for a kiss, guiding his long slender hands to Charles’s own trousers.

*****

The last time Charles blew Erik was almost six months ago. They were in a hotel room in Amsterdam, at a lovely old place they had been meeting up at for these trysts for—well, decades now, all told, as old as it made Charles feel to think of it. But then, most things seemed to make Charles feel old these days, which for all that he supposed it was a natural side effect of having turned seventy, was nevertheless a sobering thought.

Erik had already gotten Charles off, sucking at his earlobes and playing with his nipples for ages and ages, all the hot spots he knew so perfectly. He was tender and patient and thorough, and by the time Charles finally had to push him away, Charles thought he rather deserved a reward.

Erik smiled—smirked, really, and Charles had always thought it unfair that the expression was such a good look on him—and said, “A reward for me, or one for you?”

He was already climbing up to straddle Charles’s chest, though, holding on to the headboard to steady himself as Charles arranged himself just the way he liked it, and when Charles opened for him Erik pushed in, firm and relentless and huge, stretching Charles’s mouth wide round his girth, fucking Charles’s face steady and deliberate as Charles gripped his hips. He murmured Charles’s name when he finished; even after all these years he still sounded startled sometimes, looking down at Charles with wide wondering eyes.

*****

Charles doesn’t know where this Erik—thirty-year-old Erik, young once more, beautiful and diamond-hard and unaware of all the details of four decades of history between them—has come from, and he doesn’t know where his own has gone. 

Hank has theories, but then, Hank has theories on everything. He can’t pin it down specifically, though, and in the end, it seems the only thing to do is to accept it and move on.

“It _probably_ isn’t permanent,” Hank says, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“That’s very comforting, thank you,” Charles says tiredly, while Erik remains silent and sullen beside him.

The silence is an improvement over the yelling and carrying-on that Erik had indulged in when he had first appear in Charles’s office this morning, so Charles supposes that’s a small mercy.

*****

Charles lasts three weeks before he falls into bed with Erik, this time around. Compared with their beginning, that’s ages. Really, he deserves a trophy. Something of the sort, anyway. How’s that for self-control?

“You’re still so goddamn gorgeous,” Erik whispers disbelievingly, one night, kissing his way up Charles’s forearm. It makes Charles shiver, goosebumps rising up everywhere Erik’s lips touch.

If this Erik hasn’t had years of knowing everything that Charles like, he makes up for it by being eager and quick to learn.

“Come here,” Charles says, voice thick. “I have something else I wanted to show you.” He hadn’t learned _this_ trick until they were both in their fifties already (that had been a memorable weekend, in a cabin in some tropical country Charles never actually bothered to learn the name of after Erik snatched him there).

Erik seems to appreciate it just as much this time around.

*****

Of course, when Erik—old Erik, proper Erik, _Charles’s_ Erik—returns, he’s somewhat out of sorts.

“I can’t believe you slept with him,” he tells Charles, with no small element of accusation. 

Charles refrains from rolling his eyes and instead merely reminds him, “Slept with _you_.”

He could also, if he chose, bring up their argument from 1982 when Charles informed Erik in no uncertain terms that if Erik wasn’t willing to commit to their relationship fully, he had no right to expect Charles to be monogamous. The fact that it has now been a good fifteen years since Charles chose to exercise that right doesn’t render it any less valid. Still, it’s a moot point at the moment, Charles decides.

And besides—

“Are you telling me that you didn’t sleep with my younger self while you were there?”

It shuts Erik up for a little while, at least, and so Charles doesn’t have to admit the full truth quite yet, in case Erik hasn’t yet figured it out—that in any body, any form, any time, it’s only a matter of time.

For now, though, perhaps Charles can fool himself that he keeps a sense of mystery.


End file.
